


Oikawa's Secret

by iwaizumisbiceps



Series: Secrets [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Getting Together, High School, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Poetry, but it's very minor i promise, happy oikawa is my greatest agenda, okay this is my love letter to oikawa lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29402517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwaizumisbiceps/pseuds/iwaizumisbiceps
Summary: Oikawa is a gifted poet, and Iwaizumi is his muse. It was only a matter of time before Iwaizumi discovered the truth.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Series: Secrets [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2161296
Comments: 7
Kudos: 18





	Oikawa's Secret

**Author's Note:**

> This is an extremely indulgent sequel/companion piece of my fic "Iwaizumi's Secret", but I think this can be read alone if you really didn't want to read the first one. As with the previous story, this is based off a headcanon about one of the boys. In this one, the headcanon is that Oikawa writes poetry. This is un-beta'd as well :')
> 
> -Spoiler Warning: The outcome of the national tournament qualifiers is mentioned.
> 
> -Disclosure: I'm not a poet myself, so the poetry Oikawa writes is modified versions of Lang Leav's poems. Her poetry is absolutely beautiful!
> 
> Here's a link to a spotify playlist I created for this fic: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3CoEbSdz4XxTN6RfLGRQWy?si=9OI8AqrqQva-LoEZ89DHDQ
> 
> Enjoy! :)

* * *

**“Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.”**

**-Plato**

Oikawa watches with piqued interest as Kyoutani spikes a ball set by Yahaba. Both the set and spike are perfect, done with practiced skill and focused aggression, hitting the ground with an echoing boom. It is just the two of them on the court, but if there was someone receiving on the other end, Oikawa doubts it could’ve been dug up. Yahaba and Kyoutani smirk at each other. Oikawa’s eyes drift over to Iwaizumi, who’s walking up to Kyoutani and Yahaba with an easy smile on his face. At the sight of his mentor, Kyoutani straightens and returns Iwaizumi’s fist bump. Even Yahaba tilts his head and looks at Iwaizumi expectantly. Iwaizumi’s strong hand finds Kyoutani’s shoulder as he speaks to the both of them, giving them advice, Oikawa presumes. They both nod, enthralled by whatever Iwaizumi is telling them.

_Look at our protégés, Hajime_ , Oikawa thinks fondly as he watches the three of them from the sidelines. _Look at how far they’ve come_.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi are third years, and only a month ago they lost against Karasuno in the national tournament qualifiers. For a while, it didn’t feel real to Oikawa. The fact that his high school career was done, his last official game as a third year already behind him. He still remembers looking at the other Seijoh third years when they were blowing off steam after their loss and giving that cheesy speech.

Oikawa doesn’t remember everything from that day, but he remembers the sting of knowing he would never set to them in an official game ever again. He remembers looking at Iwaizumi, and how his skin was blotchy and his eyes were bloodshot from crying, but he was still smiling at Matsukawa and Hanamaki. Despite everything, Iwaizumi was _smiling_. Iwaizumi, a boy who wears his heart and emotions on his sleeve. Iwaizumi, who’s smiles were never fake or put on to mask unsavory emotions, like some of Oikawa’s were. If Iwaizumi could smile, then everything really would be okay. Oikawa felt the sting numb into just a dull ache. The meaning of his best friend's smile hit Oikawa like a truck, prompting him to burst into tears for the first time that day.

Oikawa remembers walking home with Iwaizumi. The night was quiet and somber, the only sound the buzzing of insects and their footsteps on the concrete sidewalk. He remembers wanting to reach out and hold Iwaizumi’s hand, seeking that bit of comfort. But he knew he couldn’t, because what would it mean if Oikawa held his hand without the pretense of Iwaizumi _accidentally_ bumping his knuckles against his? He wasn’t ready to unpack that, not after the emotionally taxing day he’d had. And not with high school quickly coming to an end. Oikawa was already setting his sights on Argentina, and Iwaizumi’s own sights were on California. He wasn’t ready to upset the careful balance between them. He was scared, so, so scared.

_If only I’d set the ball higher, if only I’d gotten the most out of my team, if only I’d have been a better setter…that wouldn’t have been our last official game together as a team._

Then he remembers Iwaizumi breaking the silence.

“Keep going on without a second thought,” Iwaizumi had said earnestly, as if he could read Oikawa’s mind. Oikawa had looked at him with wide eyes, both of them stopping to face each other.

With a fierce look in his eyes, Iwaizumi confessed, “I couldn’t be prouder to have you as a partner. And you’re the absolute best setter.”

Oikawa’s heart dropped, and he vaguely wondered if this is what it felt like to fall off a cliff. 

Iwaizumi continued, echoing a conversation they’d had after Oikawa caught Iwaizumi singing, “Even if we end up on different teams, those facts will never change.”

The pounding of Oikawa’s heart was loud in his ears. And wow, _Hajime is beautiful_ , Oikawa thought senselessly. _Did my best friend always look like this? When exactly did I start noticing?_

The boy he had known all his life was becoming a man, growing into his strong eyebrows, strong eyes, strong jaw, strong arms, strong _everything_. Everything about Iwaizumi was strong, and solid, and _beautiful_. The moonlight was creating haunting shadows on his face, and his jade eyes looked even lighter. And while Oikawa knew that he himself was handsome, he had been told it all his life after all, he believed that Iwaizumi was unbelievably handsome, too. If not in entirely different ways.

Oikawa remembers feeling like he could get lost in that moment, in how Iwaizumi looked when he was headstrong and honest, in how Iwaizumi smelled fresh after his post-game shower, in _Hajime, Hajime, Hajime_. 

Oikawa had no idea that Iwaizumi was thinking the same of him. Iwaizumi was thinking about how nice Oikawa’s hair looked when it was slightly damp from a shower and curling more at the ends. He was thinking about how beautiful Oikawa’s doe eyes looked when they were glassy after crying. He was thinking that Oikawa's normally pale face was so flushed and pretty. He was thinking that even though Oikawa had to look down at him, he didn't mind it in that moment. His best friend _was_ larger than life, he _was_ someone who deserved that pedestal. And something about Oikawa knowing that made him even more attractive to Iwaizumi. He was thinking that when he looked at Oikawa, he felt a deep tug of pride that sent a tingling down his spine and into the soles of his feet. He was thinking that he could get lost in this moment, too, when Oikawa’s focus was completely on him, the attention making him feel drunk. He could get lost in _Tooru, Tooru, Tooru. When did the undivided attention of stupid, perfect Tooru start making it hard to breathe?_

Oikawa remembers Iwaizumi saying in a low, serious voice, “But I’ll still give my all to defeat you.”

And Oikawa remembers laughing, because _of course_ they would always be in each other’s lives. They were Tooru and Hajime, constant and endless. A matching set. Even if they weren’t in the same country, they’d know that another boy was somewhere out there, training hard to keep up with the other.

And how lucky they were to find that person so young in life.

“Bring it on,” Oikawa had said back, just as fiercely, reassured that no matter what ended, like high school volleyball, _this_ would never end. Whatever _this_ was. Even if Oikawa followed his dreams in a new country, putting everything he had into volleyball. It was comforting to Oikawa Tooru, a talented young man who could, and will, go all the way.

Then their fists connected, two parts of a whole coming together, setting the rest of their lives into motion. Oikawa felt a rush of emotion looking at the boy in front of him, and he finally allowed himself to recognize that he was fully, deeply in love with his best friend. There was absolutely no mistaking what that emotion was.

And in that grand moment on that deserted street, Oikawa had recalled a bit of poetry he wrote that morning, but never finished.

You have said

all the things

I needed to hear,

before I knew

I needed to hear them.

He finished the piece in his head while they continued walking in comfortable silence.

To be unafraid

of all the things

I used to fear,

before I knew

I shouldn’t fear them.

This is my thank you note to you, Hajime.

When Oikawa got home that night, he took out the notebook he keeps his poetry in and wrote the poem down before he forgot. He gingerly dragged the pads of his fingertips over the words, stopping at _Hajime_. He flipped to a new page and wrote:  
  


You will find him

in my highs

and in my lows;

You will find him

in my mind;

there he stirs

my every thought

and my every word.

Then, he closed the book and grabbed a sharpie, writing _For Hajime_ on the front. Not every poem was explicitly about Iwaizumi, but then, wasn’t it hard to separate a permanent fixture in your life from everything else? Isn’t it the case that even if the sun isn’t specifically mentioned in a story, the reader knows it’s always overhead?

And while his dreams that night should have been full of turmoil from his team’s loss, they were pleasant. He saw long stretches of beach, a tan hand holding his, and the sun so bright overhead.

Oikawa thinks back to that moment as he watches Iwaizumi walk away from Kyoutani and Yahaba so they can practice setting a ball and spiking it again.

It’s just the four of them there, well, plus Hanamaki and Matsukawa who are cleaning up the other side of the gym. Those two stayed behind so they can get dinner with Iwaizumi and Oikawa after this unofficial practice session. And Iwaizumi and Oikawa are staying late after official practice ended to give Kyoutani and Yahaba a private lesson of sorts.

There is a sense of finality in the air, and Oikawa can feel it. His heart is buzzing and he feels almost giddy. Today had felt like the closing of a really good chapter in a novel you just can’t put down. It probably has something to do with the fact that Oikawa had announced Yahaba as the new captain that day. The third years sat out of practice after a while to give the younger boys a chance to play as a new team. Oikawa watched as Yahaba conducted his team eagerly. Seeing Yahaba take on his new role head-on made him a bit jealous, if he's being honest with himself. Yahaba has so much time left to take Seijoh as far as possible, time that Oikawa just doesn’t have anymore.

Despite this, Oikawa feels nothing but pride at seeing his best friend coach their juniors, with said juniors doing exceptionally well. It’s easier to feel pride, and other good emotions, when you’re determined to keep going on without a second thought.

Oikawa turns away from the scene to join Hanamaki and Matsukawa, who have now situated themselves on a bench, sharing a bag of chips.

“How much longer?” Hanamaki complains, popping a chip into his mouth.

“We’re starving,” Matsukawa adds, also popping a chip into his mouth, causing Oikawa to roll his eyes.

“You two are literally eating as we speak,” Oikawa huffs, placing a hand on his hip. “And stop finishing each other’s thoughts, like you share the same braincell or something.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” comes Hanamaki’s sarcastic reply, his eyes purposefully glancing at Iwaizumi.

“And what’s that supposed to mean, Makki?” Oikawa glares at him, even though he knows exactly what his friend is implying. Oikawa plays into the mental connection theory, too, after all.

Before Makki can respond, Iwaizumi is jogging up to them.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Iwaizumi says to them sincerely. There’s still a hint of a smile on his lips.

“At least Iwaizumi is considerate of how we feel,” Hanamaki smirks, eating another chip. “Unlike our captain, here.”

“Don’t you mean _ex_ -captain?” Matsukawa deadpans. “And we’re on Iwaizumi’s side if you two break up.”

Hanamaki snickers while Oikawa pouts and whines, “Rude, Mattsun! And for the last time, we’re not dating!” before turning to Iwaizumi. “Don’t apologize to them, Iwa-chan. If they really didn’t want to wait, they wouldn’t. They’re just cranky because they don’t have their own protégés to pass off precious knowledge to.”

“That’s an interesting theory,” Hanamaki teases.

Iwaizumi flicks Oikawa’s forehead, used to the shenanigans of his three good friends, and says, “Oi, Shittykawa, stop messing around and help clean up so we can get the hell out of here.”

“Ow! Mean, Iwa-chan, mean!” Oikawa gasps, rubbing his forehead. “Why is everyone ganging up on me today?”

Iwaizumi’s reply is a quick smirk before jogging back toward Kyoutani and Yahaba.

Oikawa sighs and turns back toward Hanamaki and Matsukawa.

“So, what’s for dinner?” Hanamaki asks, popping a chip into his mouth.

“Yeah, it better be something good after this long ass wait,” Matsukawa adds, also popping a chip into his mouth. “Also, it’s because you’re an easy target, ex-captain.”

* * *

Hours later, Oikawa and Iwaizumi wave Hanamaki and Matsukawa off and walk toward their own street. Oikawa is unusually quiet, thinking about how after-practice dinners with Iwaizumi, Hanamaki, and Matsukawa are coming to an end. Sure, they’ll still meet up from time to time, but it won’t be the same. While a huge part of him wants to wallow in that fact, another part of him is excited for the future. Iwaizumi’s words, _keep going on without a second thought_ , are a guiding light. Oikawa knows he can’t hesitate. Argentina is waiting for him, Oikawa told everyone soon after their loss to Karasuno. He knows that another team is waiting for him, and the memories he makes and the skills he develops don't erase the time he’s spent at Aoba Johsai. If anything, this opportunity is _because_ of Aoba Johsai. He’s already excited to tell his friends stories about his time abroad, and for the stories they share about their own lives. He’s excited to have so many people to practice Spanish with; he’s excited to work with and learn from extremely talented players; he’s excited to try different foods and immerse himself in a new culture.

He just feels _excited, excited, excited_ , about the future in a way he hasn’t for a long time. But it’s strange. Oikawa is steadily moving toward his future, but he wouldn’t mind living in these small moments of friendship forever.

So, he writes a poem in his head.

I feel the end is drawing near,

would time be so kind so slow?

After all,

this is all I really know.

But as I wait and fear

and watch the hours go-

Everything that happened here,

happened long ago.

I can’t help but feel

there are things I will miss

that I shouldn’t,

and things I won’t

that I should.

Sometimes we want

what we couldn’t,

sometimes we love who we could.

And he glances at Iwaizumi out of the corner of his eye.

When they reach Oikawa’s house, Iwaizumi touches Oikawa’s forearm to get his attention and says, “Let me grab my guitar. I’ll be right over.”

Oikawa looks pointedly at Iwaizumi, since he never explicitly invited him over, but the other boy is already walking toward his own house, hands stuffed in his coat pockets. The night is pretty chilly, and when Oikawa sighs out a long breath, he watches as it turns white and swirls into the air.

Oikawa doesn’t need to ask, because he realizes he knows. Iwaizumi probably figures that Oikawa will be in a weird mood after watching somebody fill his role as captain, and Oikawa’s quietness on their walk home probably only confirms that. Iwaizumi wants to keep him company and make sure he doesn’t spiral.

Also, _maybe_ , Iwaizumi wants to keep living in these small moments of friendship, too.

So, instead of questioning it, Oikawa enters his home with a warm feeling in his chest, says hello to his parents, and heads to his room.

Oikawa changes out of his uniform and into sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. He stretches his long limbs, grabs his poetry book, and settles on his bed. Every once in a while, Oikawa likes to peruse the pieces he’s already written. And he’s feeling pretty nostalgic this night, so he allows himself a small trip down memory lane before Iwaizumi shows up at his house.

He stops at particular piece and sighs, anxious butterflies erupting in his stomach.

You say you’re in love with her

my heart-

it skips,

it sinks.

To see you with someone else,

I stare,

I stare,

I blink.

Someday I’ll be over you,

I know,

I know-

I think.

Oikawa doesn’t remember when liking boys, liking _Iwaizumi_ , became a possibility, but he remembers the feeling of dread settling deep in his chest when, during their second year, Iwaizumi told him he'd accepted a love confession. For all the teasing Oikawa did about Iwaizumi needing to accept a confession so he doesn’t fall so far behind him, he didn’t know why his heart was such a mess at the news. The feeling of dread didn’t lift, and then a week later Oikawa saw them holding hands at lunch and his heart clenched so hard it was painful. And _oh_ , he realized suddenly, _I’m jealous_. Oikawa was jealous that she could hold his hand in public, with no pretenses, and without anybody questioning it. Oikawa was jealous that he could kiss her cheek and she could giggle and tug him closer. When did that become something Oikawa wanted? And why did he want it with his best friend?

It was the first time Oikawa’s heart was broken, but it wasn't the last.

Needless to say, Oikawa was forced to do a lot of self-discovery during his second year. He continued to date girls, because he liked to, but he also kissed a few boys. He discovered that felt pretty good, too. He kept that part of himself secret, because he knew society didn’t allow him to kiss boys as openly as girls. And also because the one boy he wanted to like him back didn't, and probably never would.

Then Iwaizumi’s girlfriend introduced her best friend to Oikawa, and he fell for her, harder than he knew was possible. She was so pretty, and sarcastic, and confident, and bright. She loved holding his hand, too, so he didn’t have to feel guilty always taking hers in his. She kissed him publicly and all of the time, like being with Oikawa made her endlessly proud. He loved that she was secretly nerdy, too. They talked about aliens and sci-fi movies and existential ponderings about the universe. She called him out of his bullshit, and he was grateful. And maybe she reminded him of someone else and he loved the easy familiarity of it all.

She was the first person he came out to. She had smiled and thanked him for telling her, accepting every part of him wholeheartedly. Like with most things, Oikawa fell headfirst into this relationship.

Oikawa loved the way he played volleyball, with everything he had. And even if it broke.

So, when it finally did break, and his girlfriend left him a few months before the national tournament qualifiers, Oikawa felt his heart shatter for the second time. The reason wasn’t that she didn’t love Oikawa, or that Oikawa didn’t love her. It was that Oikawa had a third love, volleyball. Oikawa could only spread himself so thin. Maybe she wasn’t so ready to let her boyfriend keep going on without a second thought. And, well, Oikawa wasn’t somebody that could hold back. Either way, Oikawa learned that the two of them had not been constant and endless.

That night, Oikawa had snuck out of his house and into Iwaizumi’s bedroom through his window. Sleepy Iwaizumi chastised him for climbing up his trellis, saying his was too big to climb up it like when they were kids, but then he saw Oikawa was crying. Iwaizumi listened patiently as Oikawa told him about his breakup. After a while, Iwaizumi confessed that his girlfriend had broke up with him a few weeks before, for a pretty similar reason. That only made Oikawa cry harder, because _Why the hell wouldn’t you tell me, Iwa-chan!_ And that was the first time Iwaizumi brushed his knuckles against his, letting Oikawa lace their fingers. As Oikawa cried into his shoulder, and Iwaizumi rubbed circles into his back with his free hand, Oikawa wrote a poem in his head.

I turn away

and close my heart-

to the promise of love

that is so alluring.

For the past has taught,

to not be caught,

in what is surely

my undoing.

And while Oikawa found comfort in Iwaizumi and felt the promise of love in their intertwined fingers, he didn’t allow himself to hope that it meant the same to Iwaizumi as it did to him. He was not ready to have his heart broken for a third time in his short eighteen years.

Oikawa also doesn’t remember when writing poetry became something so second nature to him. It probably started when he was eight and found a poetry book his sister had purchased, thinking to himself _Pfft, I could do that._ Yet, Oikawa’s mind has always been brilliant. Ever the conductor, he makes the easiest connections between words to create beautiful prose. Like with volleyball, or really anything he’s passionate about, he works harder than anyone to improve. Unlike with volleyball, the improvement feels easy because he doesn’t have to compete with anyone. He does it for himself. There’s a simple pleasure that comes with doing something solely for yourself, and solely because it’s fun. It’s the self-care Oikawa needs and deserves. He finds that whenever his mind is stormy, he’s still able to string together something that puts everything into perspective. When he writes, it’s like a sigh of relief. For someone who is always so gifted with words, what better hobby could he have? And it’s such a delight to Oikawa to feel prideful about his poems, none of his usual insecurities leaking in. It’s only the _content_ of the poems that force Oikawa to keep them secret.

Speaking of which, back in the present, Oikawa hears his front door open and greetings being shared between Iwaizumi and his parents. He quickly hops off his bed and shoves the book in the left drawer of his desk.

After a few hours, Oikawa is finishing the last of his homework as he listens to Iwaizumi lazily strum his guitar. Oikawa never explicitly said that Iwaizumi playing his guitar brought him peace, but Iwaizumi could tell from the contented look on Oikawa’s face that it was so. Iwaizumi had changed into sweatpants and a faded Aoba Johsai hoodie, and he looked and felt comfortable in Oikawa’s room.

“You sure I’m not bothering you?” Iwaizumi asks when he notices Oikawa become tense for a second.

“Iwa-chan, if you stop playing then you’ll _really_ be bothering me,” Oikawa says bitterly. “It’s just this math problem.”

Iwaizumi laughs and keeps strumming.

“Actually, could you grab my other math notebook from my desk?” Oikawa asks, not taking his eyes off the page. “I think I need to look at my other notes. It’s in the right drawer.”

“I didn’t realize your legs were broken, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi huffs, but he still sets his guitar down gently on the floor where they’re sitting. He stands up and walks over to the desk.

“You’re the best, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says cheerfully, but Iwaizumi still catches the smug smile on his lips and rolls his eyes.

“Whatever,” Iwaizumi mutters.

Oikawa hums happily. His back is toward Iwaizumi and his desk, but he can hear Iwaizumi open the drawer to his desk and pull something out.

It’s quiet for a few seconds, longer than it should be, and Oikawa can hear the notebook being opened. He wonders what about his lecture notes is so interesting to Iwaizumi.

“Um, Tooru?”

Oikawa feels his heart stop at the sound of his first name leaving his best friend’s lips. Iwaizumi’s voice is quiet, uncertain. Oikawa just knows something is wrong. He looks over his shoulder and sees Iwaizumi holding his poetry book. And it’s open in his hands.

Oikawa’s mind goes blank for a second, then kicks into high gear.

He jumps up, gasping, “Iwa-chan, what are you doing? I said the _right_ drawer! I know your skull is thick, but can’t you at least comprehend Japanese? Why the hell would you open the _left_ drawer?”

Iwaizumi is silent, too silent, and it makes Oikawa’s skin crawl.

“And why would you open that! It’s obviously private!”

Oikawa moves closer to grab the book but Iwaizumi just closes it and turns it around so Oikawa could read the front. _For Hajime_.

Oikawa feels a tingling down his spine and his brain goes fuzzy, the sound loud in his ears. He’s been caught, so thoroughly caught. Oikawa freezes, his mouth closed in a tight line.

“You...wrote me a poetry book?” Iwaizumi asks finally, hesitantly.

It hits Oikawa that Iwaizumi is making a face he’s never seen before. It’s similar to the one that he makes when he’s waiting for something with anticipation, like the face he made when they were waiting in line to see the newest Godzilla movie. But it’s a little different. It’s softer, his brows pulled slightly together, his lips parted just so, almost tugged up at the sides but not quite enough. It's anticipation...with something else there that Oikawa can't decipher.

“No,” Oikawa scoffs, his voice coming out a little too high. “Of course not, don’t be stupid.”

Iwaizumi’s brows pull together even more, and he says, “ _You’re_ stupid if you think I believe that. Why’d you write my name on the front, then?”

Oikawa, who is normally so gifted with words, has absolutely no idea what to say. Blood is rushing to his face at an alarming rate. He just knows he’s blushing furiously. And shit, the air is so thick between them.

“So,” Iwaizumi coughs out to break the silence after what feels like hours. “I guess you now know what it felt like when you walked in on me singing that night.”

It’s meant to be a joke, but it falls flat. Oikawa laughs anyway, and Iwaizumi smiles, grateful for that.

“Yeah, I guess so, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa can barely hear his own voice over the loud pounding of his heart in his ears.

After another beat of silence, Iwaizumi shifts his weight and says, “Maybe you should read it to me?”

“ _What_?”

“I only read the first page. I think I’d like to hear it being read like it was meant to be. Or do you just want to keep staring at each other like idiots?”

Oikawa swallows thickly, throat dry. Before he could think, he’s reaching out and Iwaizumi is shoving the book into his hands. Oikawa quickly turns around and sits on the floor. Iwaizumi walks around him and sits cross-legged in front of him.

“This is embarrassing,” Oikawa mumbles, hugging the book close to his chest. His hands are shaking.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi agrees. Oikawa shoots a glare at him. Then Iwaizumi continues, “But you do know I’ve wiped your snot when you cry more times than I can count, right? And remember when we were seven and climbing that tree and you fell and cut up your arm? I got your blood all over me when I carried you home on my back. And then there’s that time when we were twelve and you got food poisoning when you were sleeping over and I had to hold a trashcan while you vomited. And there’s a million other times just like those.”

Oikawa looks at him with wide eyes, stunned. “What’s your point, Iwa-chan?”

“My _point_ is that we shouldn’t get embarrassed in front of each other, not anymore, don’t you think?”

Oikawa nods slowly, the speech weirdly making him feel calmer. Then he flushes again as he lifts his left hand between them. Iwaizumi’s brow quirks, questioning.

“Hand,” Oikawa says simply, his voice coming out too tight and earnest for his liking. Iwaizumi’s eyes widen slightly and his lips part, but then he recovers and rolls his eyes.

“So needy,” Iwaizumi decides, shuffling closer so that his knees press into Oikawa’s. He reaches his right hand out to grasp Oikawa’s outstretched hand. Their fingers intertwine, coming to rest on Oikawa’s knee. Iwaizumi's hand is warm and solid, and it steadies Oikawa.

Finally, Oikawa starts reading.

The poems chronicle the good times, and the bad, and everything in between. The first half of the book is from when Oikawa hadn’t known he was in love with his best friend, so they’re lighter and more trivial. The boys find themselves laughing and reminiscing, living in the memories of their slightly younger selves. Their hands stay locked together, a constant.

After awhile, to Oikawa’s dismay, they reach the poem Oikawa had written about Iwaizumi and his ex-girlfriend.

“I liked her,” Oikawa says softly. “I really did, Iwa-chan. It’s just…”

_It’s just…I’m in love with you_.

Oikawa braces himself for some kind of rejection. The poem was, for all intents and purposes, a love confession. So, Iwaizumi had to know how Oikawa felt now.

Oikawa waits for Iwaizumi to say _I don’t like guys_ , or _I don’t like you like that_ , or something to that nature. Oikawa is already preparing what he will say back.

_Oh, don’t be silly, Iwa-chan. That was so long ago! I was just confused. I don’t like you like that anymore. So, don’t worry about it_.

Instead, Iwaizumi’s mouth stretches into a lopsided grin and he says, “Keep reading, idiot. You can’t stop now that it’s getting good.”

And Oikawa, who spent so long pushing down hope, feels tears sting his eyes. _Does that mean what I think it means?_

Iwaizumi looks sincere, his own blush just as present as Oikawa’s. He squeezes Oikawa’s hand encouragingly. Oikawa’s heart stutters and his head is floating, like he’s dreaming. He doesn’t know what else to do except blink away his tears and keep reading. And because they’re Tooru and Hajime, it isn’t so bad. They fall into a comfortable rhythm.

There was:

Do you know what it’s like,

to lie in bed awake;

with thoughts to haunt

you every night,

of all your past mistakes.

Knowing only you

would set it right-

if you were here with me,

not just in dreams,

but also in wake.

“You dream about me? That’s so embarrassing.”

“Shut up, Iwa-chan. I know you dream about my pretty face, too.”

And:

I remember our highs in hues,

like the green of your eyes

as the sun was setting;

the tan of your hands in mine,

and the pink of your smile.

I remember our sorrows in shades,

like the gray of the shadows,

which loomed that day,

and the whites and teals of our uniforms

during our last official game.

“We should’ve won that day, Iwa-chan.”

“Damn right. By the way, feel free to compliment my eyes more.”

Also:

There is nothing more nice,

there is nothing much worser,

than me as your vice

and you as my versa.

“I don’t think worser is a word.”

“You’re truly an idiot, Iwa-chan. Of course, it is.”

“I’m Googling it.”

Additionally:

Without meaning to,

you’ve disarmed me,

with touches that soothe

and alarm me.

In arms that terrify

and calm me.

“So, you like my headbutts after all.”

“You clearly lack reading comprehension skills, Iwa-chan.”

Lastly:

Hajime,

when we were kids,

you were you

and I was I;

we were two

before we knew it.

Even if you never know,

I am always yours,

and you have always

been mine, too.

Oikawa closes the book and sighs, placing it on the floor next to him. He looks at Iwaizumi and waits for another wise crack, but Iwaizumi is silent. He’s looking at Oikawa with wide eyes.

“You’re crying,” Iwaizumi says softly, his tone of voice making Oikawa’s heart flutter. Oikawa blinks and touches his cheeks and, sure enough, he feels the wetness of tears. With his free hand, Iwaizumi cups Oikawa’s right cheek and swipes his thumb under Oikawa’s eye to wipe his tears. Oikawa goes still at the touch. Iwaizumi does it again, then removes his hand. Oikawa’s cheek feels cold with the loss of Iwaizumi’s warm touch.

“You said it yourself,” Oikawa mumbles. “When am I not crying? And when are you not wiping my tears?”

“This is different,” Iwaizumi says, and it’s not a question.

“Yeah, it is,” Oikawa agrees. “So, now you know.”

Iwaizumi nods, then seems to consider something before saying, “How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That you liked…” _Me_. “…boys?”

Oikawa takes a long breath and then says, “I was so happy dating girls I really didn’t think about it. Then my precious Iwa-chan got himself a girlfriend and instead of being happy for him, I was _jealous_ of her. Pretty shitty of me, I know. It was a confusing time, but I went on a few dates with boys who gave me confession letters. Turns out I like girls _and_ boys.”

“So…with _me_ …is it _just_ a crush?” The word _crush_ sounds silly coming out of Iwaizumi’s mouth, but he’s being serious.

“No, it’s not,” Oikawa admits, scared to say more.

“Oh,” Iwaizumi says simply. Oikawa becomes aware that they’re still holding hands and even though it pains him, he starts to take his hand away. But Iwaizumi just holds on tighter. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you to reject me, I guess,” Oikawa replies, and he hates how heartbroken he sounds. “And you better do it properly, Hajime. Since I wrote you such a beautiful confession.”

Iwaizumi scrunches his brows together and asks, “You think I’m rejecting you?”

“Well, aren’t you?” Oikawa’s heart is racing at Iwaizumi’s reply not being a flat out _of course I’m rejecting you_.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t _know_?”

“I don’t know! All I know is that it feels impossible to reject you, Tooru. I’ve never been good at that.”

At that moment, unbeknownst to Oikawa if it’s conscious or not, Iwaizumi rubs the back of Oikawa’s hand with his thumb.

“Don’t do this, Hajime,” Oikawa pleads, voice thick and wet with tears. “Don’t get my hopes up like this. Not if you don’t mean it the way you know I do.”

“Hey,” Iwaizumi says firmly. “I would never do that. I’m telling you that I strongly _suspect_ that I mean it, but don’t know for sure because I’ve never…experimented.”

Oikawa considers his words, then says, “When did you start ‘suspecting’?”

Iwaizumi thinks for a moment, then replies, “Probably when we first started holding hands. I don’t know, I just realized I like it the same way I like holding hands with a girl I’m dating. It isn’t exactly the same, since your hand’s so much bigger than a girls. But I still like it and want to do it all of the time. I brought it up to Hanamaki and Matsukawa and they not so subtly suggested I like you more than a friend.”

“Those instigators,” Oikawa mutters, but his heart is bursting with happiness. _He likes holding my hand, too!_

“So, I’m not one hundred percent certain, and I haven’t done as much soul searching as you, but I’m willing to try.”

“Try what?”

“Maybe we should kiss,” Iwaizumi says nonchalantly, like he didn’t just say the most earthshattering thing Oikawa’s ever heard. Oikawa's brain short circuits for a second.

“You can’t just say that!” Oikawa gasps.

“Why not?” Iwaizumi asks, humor glimmering in his eyes. “This is pretty fucking crazy, Tooru. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m definitely not rejecting you.”

And Oikawa feels like he’s on fire, his face and ears and neck burning. _Hajime_ , he thinks, _wants to kiss me?_

Before Oikawa can spiral any further and chicken out, he blurts out, “Okay, let’s do it.”

Because, the thing is, Oikawa isn’t very good at saying no to Iwaizumi, either.

Iwaizumi uses his sleeve to wipe the rest of Oikawa’s tears away and Oikawa lets him. He presses his free hand into the floor to keep himself steady, then leans forward slightly.

Despite seeming so confident a few seconds ago, Oikawa can tell he’s nervous, just from the tense set to his shoulders. Oikawa places a hand on his shoulder to encourage him and he feels the shiver that runs through Iwaizumi. They both lean in further.

_This is happening, this is happening, this is happening_.

And it’s not either of their first kisses, but it might as well have been from the way it’s just a chaste pressing of lips. It’s dry, and quick, and before even a second has passed they’re both pulling away.

Oikawa lets out a deep breath, his pulse loud in his ears, and moves his hand to the side of Iwaizumi’s neck, earning him another shiver. He can feel Iwaizumi’s pulse, which is just as fast as his. He slides his hand up further and brushes his thumb along Iwaizumi’s jaw. They gaze at each other with heated interest. Despite the innocence of the kiss, both are their pupils are blown wide open. Iwaizumi gulps, licks his lips, then leans in again.

Iwaizumi presses his lips against Oikawa’s again, gently but more firmly this time. Oikawa presses back, parting his lips. He slides his tongue along Iwaizumi’s bottom lip. Iwaizumi opens his lips to press back with his own tongue, and _holy shit this is really happening!_

They kiss until they are breathless, with Oikawa’s thumb so firm on Iwaizumi’s jaw he can feel it moving, and Iwaizumi’s hand squeezing Oikawa’s like he’s holding on for dear life.

When they pull away, both breathing heavily, Oikawa closes his eyes and presses his forehead against Iwaizumi’s. Oikawa’s body is shaking lightly, the emotions and sensations lighting him up inside.

“Well?” Oikawa asks, voice hoarse, moving his hand higher to thread his fingers into Iwaizumi’s hair. It’s taking everything in him to not lean forward and steal Iwaizumi’s lips in another kiss. Oikawa had never had such a satisfying kiss in his life, both of them unconsciously trying to one up the other with every slide and press of their lips. 

“Well,” Iwaizumi answers, voice just as rough. “turns out I like boys, too.”

And Oikawa laughs, feeling drunk on happiness and _Hajime_.

Oikawa pulls back, grinning, to look at Iwaizumi properly. To his delight, Iwaizumi looks just as happy, his own toothy grin plastering his face.

“This wouldn’t be easy, you know,” Oikawa says quietly, his fingers feathering through Iwaizumi’s hair again. It’s soft from having been washed after practice and Oikawa could run his fingers through it forever. “Not only because we’re guys. If we’re dating, it’ll be long distance and-”

“-Wait, when did I say I actually wanted to date you?” Iwaizumi cuts him off, face and voice deadly serious.

Oikawa stalls, mouth hung open. His hand falls out of Iwaizumi’s hair and goes limp by his side.

After a few more seconds of stunned silence, Iwaizumi laughs loudly. He reaches a hand up and brushes a strand of hair out of Oikawa’s face, his fingers lightly grazing his skin.

“I’m kidding, Tooru,” Iwaizumi hums, his cheesy grin returning to his face. He leans forward and kisses just below Oikawa’s right eye, then his cheek, then right on the lips. And Oikawa’s stomach erupts into butterflies, because Iwaizumi is _kissing him_ for no other reason than because he can. However, they’re both smiling too hard to kiss properly, so they pull away.

“I’ve never seen you look so shocked. Didn't realize I was such a catch, considering you always tell me I'm too ugly to get a girlfriend,” Iwaizumi says. He looks too smug for his own good.

“Asshole,” Oikawa mutters, flushing. He unlaces their fingers to push Iwaizumi away. Iwaizumi laughs even louder, shooting forward to cup Oikawa's cheeks and presses kisses all over his face.

"Hajime, _stop_ ,” Oikawa says, but he's giggling, and his hands twist in Iwaizumi's shirt to tug him closer.

And wow, out of every moment Oikawa and Iwaizumi have shared, Oikawa could really live in this one forever. When it’s just the two of them riding a high and not even being embarrassed to show the other how happy they are.

“Idiot, you know I’m kidding. Who cares about long distance?” Iwaizumi eventually pulls away to say. “We’ll visit each other and videocall all the time. It won’t be forever. But just so you know, this, _us_ , doesn’t change what I said. You still have to follow your dreams. I mean, you wouldn’t be Oikawa Tooru if you didn’t. I’ll just…be alongside you.”

“So, does that mean…?” Oikawa prompts, grinning.

Iwaizumi groans and rubs a hand down his face. “You’re really going to make me say it?”

“Iwa-chan, I’ve only waited like a hundred years for this moment, _of course_ I’m making you say it!”

“ _Fine_ ,” Iwaizumi groans again, but then Oikawa is letting go of his shirt to grab his hand. Iwaizumi laces their fingers. No accidental brushing of knuckles, just a boy holding another boy’s hand because he can. “I like you, Idiotkawa. Against my better judgement.”

Oikawa gasps and whines, “Did you really have to say it in such a mean way?” But he’s smiling like a fool and there’s tears starting to run down his cheeks again. Iwaizumi smiles back at him.

“I accept your confession,” Iwaizumi says, his voice and smile shy and gentle and just for Oikawa. As it is because of Oikawa and his brilliant mind that they are sitting on the floor of his room, confessing their love to each other. “I’m in love with you, Tooru.”

And while Oikawa loves harder and more deeply than anyone, Iwaizumi is ready to except all of his love. Hell, he's already been doing it for fourteen years after all.

Oikawa sighs in relief and pulls Iwaizumi in for another kiss, not even caring that his tears are making it salty and messy, because Iwaizumi’s fingers are already brushing them away.

Tooru and Hajime:

push and pull;

a perfect duet.

* * *

Years later, on a warm afternoon, as Oikawa looks at a sun-kissed Iwaizumi strum his guitar and sing a Spanish song softly in their Argentinian apartment, he writes a poem in his head.

If I could tell my high school self one thing,

it would be this:

There are things in life you can postpone,

but love isn’t one of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow me on tiktok @/iwaizumisbiceps and twitter @/iwasbiceps. Again, here's the spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3CoEbSdz4XxTN6RfLGRQWy?si=9OI8AqrqQva-LoEZ89DHDQ
> 
> Let me know what you think :)


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